Roundabout
by lovelydangerousdear
Summary: It's a little wrong him to want her in the now, but live in the then. A little sick, and delusional, but he can't bring himself to care anymore than Valkyrie can see him as anyone other than who he is now.


**Probably going to redo this. I don't like how it turned out.**

Skulduggery, is hardly a weak man. The things he's done, the things he's seen, the things he's lived through have shaped him into something resilient, something unnamable, something terrifyingly exquisite and nearly indestructible.

However, he is a selfish man, an ugly one too, rotten to the core with bitterness, anger, hate and _power._ Very few people see his selfishness. Many see his ugliness, his anger, his hate and corruption. But it's his selfishness that he keeps to himself, too little thoughts that come unbidden into his mind when there is nothing to distract him from his cynicism. Things like:

_I wish it had been someone else, she should have lived. They should have lived. I should have destroyed everything while I had the chance-_

Those are the little things though, his more wretched thoughts haunts his mind constantly-

_I wish Valkyrie had been-_

_Had been what_? He thinks, and thinks and comes up with a million ways to finish the sentence.

_Had been in the war, had been away from Gordon's house that night, had been more trusting, had been the one I met first-_

Oh yes. He thinks he would have much rather had Valkyrie as his wife the first time around, so that she could see him, his hazel eyes, and darkened honeyed skin, thick muscles and w_ry _grin. He wishes, so hard sometimes that she was really only fifty years younger-just like Evelynne. But mostly he wishes that he had fallen in love with her first, he wishes that she had been his wife during the war. He knows, he just knows, that if it had been Valkyrie captured and tortured, that she'd have been ok, she would have gone to the brink and come back, stronger more resilient than ever, and his son, his and Valkyrie's son would have made it too, because he'd be made of resilience, bravery, and strength just like them.

If it had been Valkyrie she'd have been standing by his side from day one through all their adventures, he even believes if it had been her she somehow, would have saved him, them.

He believes that Valkyrie, only Valkyrie could have stopped him.

Stopped Vile.

In some ways he really, really hates himself for this, because inadvertently, in his daydreams about Valkyrie in his past, he realizes in some ways he blames Evelynne, for her own death, for the death of their son.

Evelynne Cipher had been a good mage. An adept with quite a few tricks and enough talent, but Valkyrie was a woman of war. Evelynne was not. For all her tricks and talents, Evelynne didn't have that burn in her eyes; she was soft and lovely and kind, where Valkyrie was resilient and loyal and fierce. Evelynne would never have been fit for war, for fighting, even if she tried, even if she was trying to save her son and husband, she could never delve into the darkness. Not like Valkyrie could…_would._

He also realizes how unfair it is to Valkyrie too, how he blames her for being a couple hundred years too late. These are horrible thoughts to have, and a reason to blame, but the worst of those thoughts, the worst of those daydreams is Valkyrie, being there with him during the war. It's of Valkyrie, brave, loyal, stupid little Valkyrie, bursting in and saving him, his wife, and their son from Serpine, keeping him human, keeping his loved ones alive. He dreams of her doing this, with that glint in her eyes that says a million things and more-

_You're my best friend. Idiot. I'll save you. I believe in you. Please be ok. I'll kill you if you're not ok. I'll kill whoever is responsible. Thank god you're still here. I need you. I want you__**. Iloveyou.**_

And gods, he can see the centuries fly by as his son grows, and his wife gives him child after child, all the while Valkyrie stands there, fighting, laughing, loving. It's a horrible thought. A horrible thought that he should feel loyalty to one woman, obligation and affection towards her, but look at another with longing, possession and love. In his daydreams he's always so selfish, taking them both, stealing moments with Valkyrie, having adventures and then just turning away and walking home, because he knows she can never leave him. He knows that she burns for him with those dark solid eyes, and needs him like necromancers need their silly toys, and zombies need human flesh.

Gods, he thinks, he's such a sick man. He wants her, Valkyrie, wants to touch her, corrupt her, teach her, but he wants to live in the past at the same time. He wants to condemn both women to being with him and him alone.

But those are thoughts he pushes away as Valkyrie draws nearer; she's a master at reading his body language. She knows every thought as he tilts his head, every twitch of his large long-fingered hands, and every smile hidden in his voice. When she's next to him, in the Bentley or otherwise, he focuses, draws himself past what happened, and towards what will happen. Sadly, it's not because he knows she need him, here in the present, it's more because he's terrified she might sense, might detect those greedy thoughts of his.

He doesn't need more than he has. He might want more, but damnation, he is a grown man, and Valkyrie is the kid who's been dumb enough to risk everything for him.

_He sometimes wishes he could return the favor but-_

"Skulduggery?" He stops walking, and turns back towards her.

_-he doesn't have much to lose._

"Hm? Yes Valkyrie?"

She closes the distance with three long strides of her shapely legs. Her tanned, calloused fingers reach up to brush against his jaw, moving until they settle on cradling his head. She has to stand on her tip toes to bring her lips to his mouth_- he's held his height over her for so very, very long-_ and he goes rigid at the contact. His comes up to her hair and grips as though to yank her away, but instead the long strands of silky brown hair-her one other vanity next to her naturally perfect smile-seems to entrap him.

She pulls away, but he keeps her close.

Her cheeks tint a hue pinker for every moment of silence.

"Valkyrie?"

"Yes, Skulduggery?"

He looks at her, really looks at her.

"I, you…. I thought you needed something to distract you from your thoughts."

He tilts his head and says nothing.

"It seemed like what you were thinking made you really unhappy."

"So you kiss me? Do you kiss every unhappy person you meet?"

Valkyrie shrugs and flips some stray hair from her face.

"I also needed an excuse to kiss you." She breathes deeply, "Or at least I really wanted one."

It's wrong. So very wrong, and Skulduggery knows it-has known it for some time. She's a fantasy, a young pretty thing that has fallen into his dark, dark nature.

Fuck, if he's going to say a thing though, he's a lonely, ugly man, and he'll take what he wants, so long as she's willing.

"No, you don't."

And then he pressed his teeth roughly against her soft, fleshy, pink mouth until they were flatly smash together.

It's horrible, worse than his thoughts, when their relationship spirals to the point that they're sharing her bed. It's worse, because he knows in some ways he's killing away the part of him that clings to his lovely dead wife, and child, and in other ways he's letting this rule him. He's letting himself take, and take from her, and she is so willing to give; willing to strip away everything for him, just like he strips her from her clothes at night.

When they lay together, then finally, just laying lost in the abundance of sheets, he traces her spine, her ribs, the sides of her breast until she falls asleep and he is left alone with his thoughts again. He avoids thinking about his wife –it makes him feel dirty and horrid for forgetting her to take pleasure in this young lithe girl- and lets himself imagine Valkyrie in the old Dead Men's uniform, he thinks of her dressed in Victorian clothes, and things of the like, and eventually he falls into meditation listening to the sound of her heart, strong and sturdy, and the feeling of her hot breath on his cool bones.

He thinks that everyone who has ever said anything bad about him is right. Wreath, Guild…._China_, all of them talked of his nature to corrupt, his hate, his darkness. They're all right. Skulduggery may not be a weak man, but he is a dark one.

Despite that though, however dirty, and manipulative, and conniving it is for him to be with her in such a false-pretense he knows he loves her. He loved her at twelve as his student-_almost like an annoying niece_- he loved her at fourteen for being brave enough to save him from _Gods_, and now at _- to infinity_ he loves her for loving him enough to try and light his way.

Valkyrie knows his doubts, his fears, his…._desires._ She's long since come to terms with being forever stuck in this roundabout relationship, where parts of him and his secrets will always be kept from her curious eyes. She doesn't care. Not really, because in the end, she knows a man, who is a skeleton. A very dark, and twisted man, who's killed more people than she wants to know. That's who she knows, anyone else, any other Skulduggery would have been a stranger.

Besides she thinks, she doesn't care who he was anymore, just like she doesn't care who he becomes-who they become-so long as he doesn't ask her to leave.


End file.
